


Day Three: Summoner

by AfinaArchives



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, I fat finger clicked other by accident and now cannot get it to go away T_T, Voidtember2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfinaArchives/pseuds/AfinaArchives
Summary: What have you given;What have you gained?
Relationships: None
Kudos: 1
Collections: Voidtember2019





	Day Three: Summoner

“There are four rules to magic,” the old man had told her. Robes of pristine white caught the colors of purple, pink, blue and gold in Dalaran’s Arcane light; and raising a hand to the city below, Alathin continued. “These rules govern our world, allow this city to thrive. There are many who believe the Quel’dorei, the Arcane, to be beings of splendor. However, there is nothing splendid about us. We have nearly destroyed the world twice over, and with each day we suck the Ley from the ground below the lands of the Eastern Kingdoms change. Magic and those who wield it have the responsibility of awe… To be awesome or awful. There is a burning desire for knowledge which exists in each mage, but allow your hubris to carry you far enough and you will burn out.”  


Afina looked from upon that ivory tower to the world below, to the mana strudel chefs, to the magicians, to the librarians, and lofty librums which flit from apartment to apartment. Such improvements had made life better, and it was only through trial and error more could be attained. “But how can ambition be bad?” Incredulous, the apprentice blinked. “Was it not my ambition which saw me plucked from the rest of my class in Faltherien?”  


“The fire within which burns as brightly as the fires outside is truly a rarity; but ambition must be countered by ambition.” Balling his hand into a fist, the old man spoke once more. “For it is an unhinged magic user which poses the most danger to us all. Let us begin…”  


“Magic is powerful.”  


That had been many yeas ago now, and nearly a century later Afina stood in the ruby and emerald armaments of the Thalassian State. Within her hand, a royal decree issued in a time of need.  


“Magistrix;” oh how the word had a ring to it. “Magistrix Voidchaser…”  


Closing her eyes, she bat away the tears. They were not of joy, and not of pride. They were tears of shameful depreciation. Afina had trained for this day, she had toiled for this day, and yet on this day she felt more a failure than ever before.  


Those closest to her heart wandered the land as corpses, and within her that righteous fire she was known for hollowed her chest in grief.  


It left her cold.  


“Magic is corrupting.”  


“Observers are out of the question. The Fel is a power we have siphoned, we have controlled. We cannot allow ourselves to cavort with the enemy Voidcha-“  


“The risk is worth the results; damn it!” Slamming her fist against the wooden table, Netherstorm’s uncanny lights cast a violet glow upon the hagard elves within the meeting hall. The warp engineer across from her, Car’nall who came from Manaforge B’naar places his head in his hands. “If they have information which we were unable to wring from the Draenei, from the Broken, from those blasted wind chimes then we must cavort with demons.”  


“We can reverse engineer the captured Ethereal power cells, Voidchaser.”  


“But do we have the time?”  


Eyes shifted around the room. The manaforges were quintessential in powering the biodomes. The biodomes were the Sin’dorei’s only hope. Unwilling to leave Outland, the children of blood stretched themselves thin. They had both hope and pride, a dangerous and rueful weapon. All hands were working around the clock, and as situations on both Azeroth and Outland grew more dire Kael’thas’ forces found their patience tested.  


The Magisters talents alone were not enough.  


“I second this;” rising from his chair, Magister Aalish Starsunder stood. A man known to be as staunch as he was tall, he held no fear of the dark for he thought himself to be the most fierce monster of all. “The Fel has proven to be a terrifying weapon used by the Demon Hunters employed by Lord Stormrage. Their own souls shackled to a demon by force of will alone. Surely, we know our people’s will to be greater! The Demon Hunter’s means are barbaric, our own shall be careful. Demons have names, and a name gives spell casters power. A name can allow us to find and research each specific demon, a name can be used to stun and subdue. Demons can be summoned and bound to a Warlock… So long as that warlock is careful enough.” The plot drew murmurs from all within the room. Looking over the war planning table, Magister Starsunder’s dark green eyes peered through each engineer there. “Demons are creatures of contract, and disloyal to a fault. Assume each statement a half truth, and treat them with the same kindness which they would afford you. None. Although our allies may disapprove of our actions, it is our actions which shall insure the survival of our species.” To his side, the slight Arcanist Brightpond smirked.  


“Those willing to make the sacrifices necessary to guide our people into a brighter future will be those remembered by history. We stand upon the land which will one day be Prince Kael’thas’ new kingdom. Who among you are brave enough to fight for it?”  


Afina stood.  


She joined with a band of felmancers, astromancers, engineers, spell blades, engineers, blood knights, and nethermancers.  


Signet worn upon her chest, she became a Sunfury.  


“Magic is addicting.”  


Magistrix Voidchaser had taken to crystals, the dark gems floating above her form at all times. While others dealt with the affects of withering, their long arms and gangly forms becoming ill suited for battle, Afina found herself becoming something else entirely.  


Her senses were more alert than ever, able to pick up on the whispers of Ethereals, the subtle hints of magic left by rogue wizards, as well as the slight step of feline paw prints. Erik watched over her more from afar which Afina felt odd, as she had to her knowledge done nothing to upset her beastie. The cat’s tail often puffed up, his ears back. Despite this, he would return to her sleeping mat each night, and curl up by her feet.  


He was gone by morning.  


It gave her one less thing to worry about, for the Sunfuries quickly became the sword of Netherstorm. Employing dark magics, shackleing beings of light to their will - there was nothing sacred. There was only power, and those willing enough to reach out and take it.  


And take it they did. The warlocks summoned leagues of imps, shirvaa, felguards, and observers. While the former were best suited for battle, better to have a demon fall than an elf, the latter were useful for another reason. The observers were written about in the Alcatraz’s files, often referred to as the Beholders. They were beings from the Great Dark Beyond, a place upon the very outskirts of the Twisting Nether and known reality. They were beings of knowledge.  


Knowledge was power.  


And the Sin’dorei were in need of it.  


Magister Starsunder looked over his notes once more, reviewing the binding spells needed to shackle this Galaxios. This one, ah, this one was a strong one and when Arcanist Brightpond had found word of him the trio knew they had to be the first to summon him. To bind him to their will.  


Rising from the dust, Afina wiped the sweat from her brow and held out both hands.  


They stepped into the circle.  


“Magic draws denizens of the Twisting Nether to those who wield the Arcane and all its mysteries.”  


Floating, falling, cascading at breakneck speed light and time ceased to be. She saw all. She saw nothing. Her mouth opened to scream but found no there was no air in her lungs. There was no air.  


The world around her fell apart, her allies reached out for aid as they careened towards the abyss.  


She reached back, for a gem and tossed it into the maw which devoured.  


Brightpond went first, a silent scream etched upon her face as she caught sight of the gem fly past her face.  


One of rage upon Starsunder’s own not even a second later. Matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed, but it can be converted - and in the Twisting Nether - all changes. Their forms stretched by the sheer force of gravity, broken into bits so small they could never be saved or seen again. Souls lost to the darkness of space where not even Light could escape.  


Voidchaser?  


She hadn’t meant to do it, but they were surely gone before she could have done anything.  


Surely.  


While her friends fought to save their own lives she accomplished her mission.  


She portaled out.  


Reaching through the planes of existence the entity which hungered grasped her hand and looked into her eyes.  


Her eyes looked back.  


Into that pitch, devoid.  


Her back hit the dusty clay ground of Netherstorm, and inside a broken circle, she screamed. Clutching her face she rolled over, and heaved.  


For the stars above her were to bright, they were too bright, they were too bright.  


She could not bear to see them.  


“Those are the rules you can always garuntee. Those are the rules which will govern your destiny if you choose to travel the path of the mage.”


End file.
